


Curiosity Might Have Killed The Cat (But It Got The Wolf Laid)

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hears a noise and his curious nature can't help but investigate. Or that's the story he's sticking to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity Might Have Killed The Cat (But It Got The Wolf Laid)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Teen Wolf, Stiles/Isaac, Curiosity" at [MMOM](http://mmom.livejournal.com).

Closing the door quietly behind himself, Stiles let himself effortlessly into Scott’s house. It was getting almost too easy. He knew which rock the spare key was under; he knew which step to miss on the stairs, which floorboard squeaked. It was easier than sneaking into his own house, if Stiles was entirely honest with himself.

However this time, his foot hovered in midair and came clunking down on the creaking step. He was certain he’d heard something. A low groan. Like in the movies when the killer is interrupted mid-slice and dice by the unsuspecting best friend of the victim coming unexpectedly through the door. Oh fuck.

Glaring down at his leg and the offending step, Stiles looked up and down the stairs, rating his chances of running away and weighing them up with how awesome it would be to say he’d saved his best friend – who just happened to be a super powerful werewolf... or a werewolf at least – ‘s ass. Pretty freaking cool.

Edging up another step at a time, choice made by the imaginary stroking his ego had just gotten, Stiles finished climbing the stairs like the floor was lava. Missing the squeaky floorboard, Stiles curled his hand around the handle of Scott’s lacrosse stick, thankful that he was too preoccupied – possibly getting murdered – to put it away properly.

Taking a bracing breath, Stiles kicked open the door, successfully swinging the stick at whatever was inside before dropping it to clutch at his screaming foot, hopping haphazardly into the room before he realized just what he’d hit. Scott’s supposed killer, burglar or stalker was quite alone, quite naked and quite Isaac, with quite a red mark on his head and quite yellow eyes.

“What the fuck, Stiles?” Isaac growled at him, baring his fangs before he took a breath, calming down now that the danger wasn’t life threatening and the reality of the situation started to sink in. 

“I did not... I thought you were... I didn’t think _that_ or I would have knocked or something, I swear. I wouldn’t have...” Stiles awkwardly mimed swinging the lacrosse stick. “Not while you were...”

“Don’t do the mime!” Isaac said quickly with wide eyes, pulling Scott’s covers over his lap so he could hold up his hands which had thus far been busy protecting his modesty.

“No, of course not,” Stiles said, lowering his arms to hang uselessly by his sides. “So... this is awkward.”

“I’m aware, thank you,” Isaac said, glaring at him, his eyes burning clear through him in a way that said if looks could kill, he’d be toast. Buttered. With a lot of jelly.

“Do you want me to go so you can finish?” Stiles asked, raising his hand slightly before lowering it again in case Isaac thought there’d be an accompanying hand gesture.

“What, no!” Isaac said, cheeks flushing red at the thought.

“So... you don’t want me to go?” Stiles asked, tipping his head slightly to the side with morbid fascination. He’d always wondered if some of the jokes the boys in the locker room made about watching porn together and jerking off were true.

“No!” Isaac said, eyes wider, cheeks redder, wishing the ground would swallow both him and Stiles up.

“Awesome! You’ll have to give me a minute to, you know. I’m not a naught to sixty kind of guy, I need romancing first...” Stiles said, sitting down on the bed next to Isaac, closing his eyes to think about the first sexy thought that came to his mind. Which was, very confusingly, Isaac as he was before the stick connected with his head. Hard and unabashed and bashing one out like he’d never come again. Cock heavy and pressing hard against his zip, Stiles opened his eyes again. “That apparently does it.”

“Does what?” Isaac asked but his voice had lost its shrill of exasperation now. Rather, he was looking like Stiles when Stiles looked at the words _quantum theory_. With fear, confusion and the vague notion that there was a whole lot more coming his way than he’d be able to handle.

“The trick,” Stiles said with a wink, trying to diffuse the tension without realizing he’d made it ten times thicker. “Do you want to do each other’s or stick to our own?”

“I don’t know-” Isaac started although he was fairly certain he did know what Stiles meant as he risked a glance down to his crotch, his pants tenting like they didn’t know what subtlety meant.

“I think we should do each other’s,” Stiles said over him and over his train of thought. “If we do our own, it’s not really in the spirit of a shared experience, is it?”

“No, I guess not,” Isaac said slowly as he caught up with what was happening. In his own baffling way, he was pretty sure Stiles had just offered to jack him off. Admittedly, that wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d finally been left alone in the house for some preferably _alone_ time but... a hand job was step up from a going it alone by anyone’s book, right? No matter how unlikely the circumstances or how weird it should be that it was his best friend’s best friend that was giving it to him. “Ok.”

“Ok?” Stiles asked, nodding when Isaac nodded, glancing down when Isaac pulled the sheet away. Rushing to unbutton his pants and even the playing field, Stiles squared himself and bared himself. “Ok.”

“Great,” Isaac replied with the same resolve, confirming they were actually going to do this. They were actually going to jerk each other off in Scott’s room like it was an everyday occurrence. 

Clearing his throat, Stiles made the first move, reaching out and touching the head of Isaac’s cock with his fingertip, as if checking it was real. It looked real enough, though admittedly it was further along in the flushed, angry stage of sexual frustration than Stiles’ reasonably calm, content one. He could admit that was his fault though. He reached out his finger again but Isaac caught his hand.

“Stop poking it, it’s weird,” he said sternly, uncurling Stiles’ fingers before he could try again, re-curling them around his cock in a more conventional starting position for a hand job.

“It’s not weird, it’s fine,” Stiles says as he experimentally runs his hand up and down the length, feeling the silky skin slip through his fingers. “It’s a perfectly fine dick. Just your common house or garden dick-”

“Stiles!” Isaac said, bucking up into his hand, needing him to stop describing his cock and actually do something with it. “Please just... stop talking.”

Stiles nodded, leaning back invitingly, hips pushing up to attract Isaac’s attention, grinning when he glanced over, glancing up at his face then back down again as he closed his fist around Stiles’ cock too, making them equally complicit in this strange turn of events, matching him stroke for stroke.

Fisting his hand in the sheet, Isaac soon took to eagerly stroking Stiles’ cock as a surprising methodical way of keeping him quiet, enjoying the inability of being able to predict his pleasure, not knowing when Stiles would slow his hand or speed it up, not knowing when he’d throw in something flashy like a flick of his wrist or the quick swipe of his thumb over the head. In barely a handful of minutes, he was back where he was when Stiles had come crashing in, shaking and sweating and altogether too close to the edge to care about anything short of a whack around the head with a lacrosse stick.

Speeding up his hand on Stiles’ cock as an attempt to keep up his end of the bargain, Isaac threw his head back, coming hard over Stiles’ hand, everything but touch becoming meaningless to him in the wash of pleasure. His grip stuttered, becoming erratic as he tried to stick with it, tried to get Stiles off as well but it was hopeless as the full force of orgasm hit him, rendering him incapable of even lifting his hand an inch, finding himself clinging to Stiles’ cock and the sheets instead.

When he came back down, there was a strong hand around his, moving it for him to the sound of distant moans and curses. He opened his eyes just in time to see Stiles smile before he came, squeezing their hands tighter around his cock, leaving Stiles with both hands rather endearingly covered in spunk. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, he watched Stiles float on pleasure before he caught his eye. “You know, that wasn’t actually a half bad idea.”

“It was... good idea, mate,” Stiles says, leaning up to clap him on the shoulder like they’d said good game, leaving a stickier than usual handprint behind. But Isaac couldn’t bring himself to care, falling back on the bed as he let himself take it all in.

After a moment, Isaac sat back up, his brain finally caught up. “It wasn’t my idea, it was yours.”

“No, it wasn’t it was yours...” Stiles reaffirmed before closing his eyes.

Isaac considered fighting him further on it, after all, it _really_ wasn’t his idea but he stood by what he said, it wasn’t a half bad one either way. “Alright, it might have been my idea...”

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


End file.
